


Escape Velocity

by treewishes



Category: I Dream of Jeannie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1634351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treewishes/pseuds/treewishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Major Nelson has a problem, and Major Healey and Jeannie both want to help him fix it.  But one day, Tony learns he doesn't have to do it all by himself anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape Velocity

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my wonderful, and fast!, betas -- (LJs) isiscolo, lightgetsin, rubyrosered, and dementordelta (who also provided much-needed and much-loved source). You guys are fabulous!
> 
> Written for seattlekos

 

 

"I don't want to talk about it," Tony said evenly, slamming the car door with a satisfying clunk.

Roger closed his door with deliberate caution, no doubt only to be more irritating. "I know you don't, but don't you think you should?" Roger asked, following him into the house.

"No, I really don't." Tony considered closing the door in Roger's face, but hung up his hat instead. He turned to find Jeannie between Roger and himself.

"Welcome home, Master," Jeannie bubbled, and he couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. In the year since she'd moved into his home -- and his life -- she hadn't changed one bit. It was not just a saying; she probably hadn't changed in 2,000 years. She beamed him a centuries-old smile.

"Oh, hi, Jeannie," he said, smiling back, "How are you today?"

"Oh, I am fine, Master." She was nearly bouncing now, "Just fine."

"Same as yesterday?" he asked, without looking at Roger.

"Oh, yes! I was fine yesterday, too!"

Of course she had been. He turned to Roger. "See? People who don't change are fine _and_ happy."

He enjoyed the expression on Roger's face; stunned into silence was a good look for him.

As Tony strode into the bedroom, Roger unfortunately recovered. "I don't think genies count as people!" he called.

Tony clamped his lips shut and went to hang up his jacket. Change didn't happen just because you willed it to, and Roger -- _damn him!_ \-- was wrong.

Heading to the kitchen a few minutes later, he heard Roger's voice. He stopped, his hand on the door, and listened.

"....it's not a bad thing, either. Well, it could be, but not necessarily. But there's no reason to risk it, Jeannie! He just needs to be sick or something that morning... maybe a mild case of whooping cough? ...and I'll go in the ball instead."

Tony heard Jeannie make some reply, but was too distracted by the mention of the ball to pay attention to her words. The ball test, the one that had almost kept him out of the service. And that had only been in a hyperbaric chamber. He still wanted to know which sadist it was in the labs who came up with this supposed test for claustrophobia. He was the least claustrophobic member of the corps, he'd been in all sorts of capsules and cockpits with no problem. But there was something about being closed up in that little ball that made him sweat. He shuddered just thinking about it.

And after he'd made it through the test, _then_ they decided they wanted to try it out in space. Someone would have to get inside the ball and be moved from one craft to the other through open space, and he'd been assigned for the job. And... well, he would just have to do it, or he didn't deserve to _be_ in the astronaut corps!

And what was Roger thinking, volunteering to take his place? The nerve. How was it that Roger never worried about things like this -- about anything? He never took anything seriously, and yet... and yet Tony sometimes wished he had Roger's easy confidence. Everything Roger did -- as an astronaut, a pilot, even driving those crazy cars -- he did effortlessly. He was always so graceful, almost nonchalant about his abilities. He even joked about being worried -- until he actually stepped into the suit or got behind the wheel, and then he was flawless.

He could be that way, too, Tony told himself. He set his chin and pushed the door open. Jeannie was perched on a stool filing her nails and nodding at everything Roger had been feeding her. "Now see here, both of you. Sometimes -- not everything can be fixed with a blink of genie-powers! Sometimes a man has to do what a man has to do." He slammed his hand on the counter between them. Roger gaped and Jeannie's nail file hung motionless in her hand. "And why can't you just blink your nails filed, anyway?"

There. That settled it.

He stalked out.

* * *

He checked the comm log; no, there was no last minute reprieve from Mission Control, not that he was expecting one. He checked the gauges one last time, noting that everything was nominal. Except for his own body, of course; he hated it when he perspired so heavily inside the suit. The things were bulky and clammy, and this just made being in one all the worse. He hadn't slept well last night either, plagued with old, forgotten nightmares. Jeannie had heard him, had come into his room and laid a cool cloth on his head and fed him a sip of water. He struggled to remember her gentle voice singing him back to sleep.

It wasn't helping. He let the headache pulse across his forehead, then he unbuckled his straps and pulled himself into the airlock. He tugged the door into place, sealing off the bay from the main cabin.

Roger's voice sounded in his ear, intimate and familiar. "Okay, buddy, you're ready to start."

Tony was relieved to take off the spacesuit, so he focused on that rather than losing Roger's voice in his head. Once he was down to his flight suit, he took a moment to let air into the neck and sleeves of his uncomfortably damp suit. One good thing about the dry, bottled air up here, he thought, grimacing.

He fiddled with the canvas ball, finding the opening. It always looked far too small to fit a grown man. Well, it _was_ too small to fit any sane man! He fumbled for the headset dangling inside, a floppy little canvas cap with receivers sewn into the earflaps, and leaned over it, flipping the switch.

"Roger?" he winced as his voice cracked. At least Roger couldn't see the expression on his face.

"I'm here, buddy, waiting right outside for you. No problems here."

He rubbed his face and nodded, which of course Roger couldn't see, and said, "Be ready in a sec."

He let go of the headset and spread the canvas out as much as he could, avoiding looking at it. Steeling himself and turned around, pulling his knees up and tucking in his chin, finally gathering the ball around him. He tried to breathe, but all he could do was snatch tiny puffs of air. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn't find the zipper, but he managed to pull it up and press the seals into place.

He tugged on the headset. It was stuck on something and he couldn't seem to get his hands free, all scrunched up like this, and he should have put it on before he sealed the ball -- now he would have to get out and start over. He was scrambling around and starting to tumble, fighting the panic -- when Roger's voice found him again.

"Can you hear me, buddy?"

He gurgled, and Roger must have understood, because then he was talking him through it, turning on the air, getting the headset adjusted, keeping him calm. Tony knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the pod door had opened, that he was moving through space, but it was so hard to tell what was going on in the dark, cramped, weightless sphere. Somehow, he felt Roger cradling him, but he knew that was nonsense; Roger was only batting a big canvas beach ball through space to the secondary module.

And then finally, it was over. The zipper came open and there was light. And there was Roger.

"Here you go," Roger said, helping him out, peeling the ball away. Tony tried to swallow, his mouth dry, and reached for something to hold onto, but his hands wouldn't work, and he lurched against Roger. Roger's arms came around him, holding him steady, and Tony clung to him, helpless and all wrung out inside.

"Hey, you did it," Roger gave him a hard squeeze and let him go.

He finally found his voice. "Well, I guess I did." He straightened and gave Roger a punch on the arm, which sent them both spinning. They laughed and got their suits on. Roger reported in with the success of the test, and they initiated the reentry sequence.

* * *

Tony handed Roger back his calculations. "They're right on the money; great work," he told him as they walked to the front door.

"Well, you came up with the equations. And having the extra-vehicular emergency transport in place sure made it a lot easier."

They'd gone over all of it tonight over dinner and drinks, as per Roger's usual method of stopping by just at dinnertime. Well, Jeannie did put on a great meal. He gave Roger's arm a squeeze.

Roger turned, his hand on the doorknob. "Hey, have you thought about that double date on Saturday? I know Eva can find you a real babe, and it'll be great. Really great."

Roger just wouldn't let up, thought Tony. He sighed, wondering just how bad it would be, when Jeannie appeared between them.

"Major Healey, what are you talking about? You do not want to go on a date with this Eva person. I know you want to go on a date with my Master --"

"Oh yes, I do want to date this Eva person," Roger cut in smoothly. "You should see her. She could make a priest blush the way she wears a sweater, you wouldn't believe. Look, I have a picture," he added, pulling out his wallet.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Jeannie, Roger can date whatever girl he wants to," he said, leaning over to look at the proffered picture. "He wants to double date me, it's totally different," he told her. The photo looked a lot like Sophia Loren; and she did wear a sweater very well, he had to admit. Maybe he'd give in. Going out with Roger and a couple of girls, sure, it could be fun.

* * *

"Jeannie!" he shouted. He risked a glance at Roger, now also wearing swim trunks, his skin glistening with perspiration in the heat.

She appeared next to him, and he stepped away, almost tripping over a stack of boxes. She wore a very skimpy bikini, and he desperately hoped the neighbors were not looking in his garage right at this moment. "What is this?"

"Oh, Master, you and Major Healey were both looking so hot and sweaty, and the garage is still so very dirty. I wanted to cool you off," she said sweetly, and he glared at her. He was coming to realize she really thought there was more between him and Roger than friendship-- and no matter what he said to make her understand-- she just wouldn't let it go. The date with Eva and her friend-- whose name he could never remember, Sheila? Shayla?-- had turned into a disaster when Jeannie had showed up as their waitress.

He sighed. That had been the least of it. At least they weren't totally naked, like the time last week during calisthenics.

"Jeannie, give us our clothes back."

"Yes, Master," she pouted, but she did return their clothes.

"Hey, can I have those trunks?" Roger asked. "Those were really nice."

Tony shook his head. "We're cleaning out the garage, not putting on a show at Busch Gardens."

"But-- "

"Roger."

"Okay, okay." Roger went back to stacking the tools in the corner.

Tony looked around; the garage was almost ship-shape, but there was one last thing to store away. And he'd put it off too long. He picked up the golf bag and walked around the house to the cellar door. All he needed to do was go down there and put the clubs away in the storage closet. He'd done it before. But he had to admit to himself that he hadn't gotten them out last month before the base golf outing. He'd asked Roger to do it, and Roger had obliged without a care. And if Roger could do it, he could, too. He could.

He walked down the steps into the gloom, and pulled the cord that switched on the bare bulb. As he looked at the door to the storage closet, he could hear his breathing, loud in the damp and dim light.

He was still perched on the cellar steps when Roger sat down next to him. "Golf clubs?" he asked, and Tony nodded miserably.

"Want me to do it?"

He shook his head. "No. No, I need to." Then he willed himself to get up and to walk down the rest of the stairs, and Roger followed him. Somehow he was stronger with Roger beside him. He managed to get in and out of the small dark closet, knowing Roger was there, right outside the door. He turned, and there Roger was, again. He seemed so solid, so steady, in the cool shade of the cellar. Tony finally looked into Roger's face, expecting a joke, or maybe pity. But that wasn't what he saw at all.

He wanted to say thanks, thanks for this and for being there every time I needed you, but at that moment all he could do was lean into the hard body that was right there. Maybe it was Roger, maybe it was Tony, maybe it was both, but somehow their faces turned to each other, and then they were kissing, hard and stunningly hot. He pressed up against Roger, wanting to tear away the layers of cotton between them. Roger was clutching at him, at his back, his ass, pulling them together, and Tony could only gasp and hold Roger's head and thrust hard against him, tongue, chest, cock. Roger's hand was between them now, down his slacks, gripping him, and it was all too, too much, and in only a few fast strokes he was coming hard into Roger's hot hand, and then Roger was coming against him, panting into his mouth, and they were kissing and kissing, slower now, and so sweet he never wanted to stop.

Shoulders pressed together, they sagged against the cool concrete wall.

Jeannie appeared then, clapping her hands. They broke apart like a shot. "Jeannie!"

"Oh, no, no, NO, you cannot tell me that this is "only double dating" now, Master," Jeannie shook her finger at them. "I know what you have been up to down here." She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Why have you not told me?"

Roger recovered first. "Because it's all in your imagination? I mean, I know you have a pretty strong imagination, being able to blink all sorts of things into, you know, existence, but this, there's no way what you think you maybe saw actually happened." He stopped and Tony saw the light go out of his eyes.

Tony's heart felt heavy, but this had to be done. "Jeannie," he began, "Even if something like that did happen, it has to be a secret. A very big secret," he emphasized.

"Maybe even bigger than having your own genie," Roger interjected.

"Yes, bigger than that. Jeannie, this is something that, well, what happened just now was a -- a moment of weakness. It's not something we can do again. In Cocoa Beach, men don't date other men. Men are only allowed to date women."

"But I do not understand." Jeannie looked truly puzzled. "Many of the pashas partake of this kind of pleasure. It is perfectly acceptable. It will not bring children, we all understand that, but it is -- "

"No, Jeannie. We would lose our jobs. We'd be out of the astronaut corps."

"We'd be out of a lot of other things," Roger added, and Tony shot him a hard look. A look that quickly turned hot and steamy.

"I do not understand, Master," Jeannie said, and Tony tore his gaze from Roger's lips.

"I know you don't, Jeannie. But that's the way it is in Cocoa Beach."

Jeannie crossed her arms and pouted. How could he make her understand that this secret was even bigger than all the other secrets? And maybe it was perfectly acceptable in Persia 2000 years ago, but it was definitely not acceptable in 1966 in Florida. He could only imagine the reaction from Major Bellows and the rest of NASA.

Jeannie was pacing now, her arms flung wide. "No! I will not accept this; it cannot be borne! My Master and my Master's paramour will not be made unhappy," she cried. Suddenly, she beamed at them, then stood back, crossed her arms, and blinked.

Tony and Roger exchanged a worried look. "This can't be good," Roger said under his breath. Tony very much agreed.

"Come over here, Master," Jeannie said, dragging them over to the closet door.

"No way," Roger said, and both of them struggled to extricate themselves from Jeannie's sudden, iron grip. "I know we have to stay in the closet, but I didn't mean--"

They stopped and stared as she opened the door.

"Come in, Master," she said, pulling them through.

They stood in a huge room with massive sliding windows, open to a magnificent view of the beach. "That's not..." Roger began, and Tony finished, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

"Why would you think this is Kansas?" Jeannie asked, a perplexed look on her face.

"It's a lot better than a bunch of old golf clubs," Roger said, walking to the windows. "What a view!"

"But it's not Florida, either, is it," Tony said, but Jeannie was oblivious, over in the corner arranging some flowers on a table. A table next to a huge round bed with a white spread. The carpet and the walls were white, too, but it was a warm white, and the light and sand outside the doors somehow seemed a different white, too.

"Jeannie?" he asked, his voice sounding very small in the big, sunny room.

"Well, if you cannot be together in Cocoa Beach, then perhaps you can be together here?" She rushed back to where he was standing just inside the door. "Do you like it? It is very similar to the best room at the Habtoor Grand Hotel in Beirut, where the Pashazada spent many wonderful hours--"

"Jeannie, please. I would rather not hear about the Pasha."

"No, no, the Pasha was not of that persuasion, Master, it was his son."

He gulped. Taking her by the arms, he shook his head, "No, really, I don't need to hear that, either."

She stopped and bit her lip. "But do you like it, Master?"

He was distracted briefly by the trail of clothing Roger was leaving on his way to the bed. "Yes, Jeannie. I like it very much."

She beamed. "I am so happy, Master." She wriggled free of his grasp easily. He was becoming more and more distracted; Roger definitely had a flair for the dramatic.

"Goodbye, Master," she said. He turned, and she smiled at him. "See? You are nowhere. Where there is plenty of room, and plenty of time. When you want to come home, there is the door."

Tony glanced at the door, then over at the bed. Now that they were here, or rather, not there, he hesitated. Sometimes, he thought, the wide-open vacuum of space could be just as frightening as the dark interior of a tiny canvas ball.

And then Roger grinned at him, and he relaxed immediately. Of course, Roger would know what to do.

"Thanks, Jeannie," he said to her. "I mean it, thank you."

"Oh, Master, you are welcome!" She beamed. "Am I not the best genie in the world?"

"Yes, Jeannie," he told her, meaning it wholeheartedly. And then she smiled up at him, blinked, and was gone.

* * *

And later that night on a moonless beach, Tony lost, among other things, his fear of the dark.

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
